Redemption
by Damian Cross
Summary: One-Shot. Where did the Dursleys go after they left Harry? To Godrics Hollow, where Petunia hopes she will redeem herself.


**Redemption**

* * *

><p>It was raining.<p>

Rain dribbled down her cheeks. It followed the smooth curve of her face, collecting at the bottom of her chin before finally splashing onto the damp ground below, joining the millions that preceded it. In the loud tremendous noise that followed the cascade of water as it rushed from the dark clouds gathered in the sky, her sobs were drowned. She couldn't feel the tears that overflowed from her swollen, red eyes. Couldn't tell whether the droplets of water dotting her face were her own salty tears or the rain that pounded down against her. Couldn't hear her own anguish cries over the deafening thunder that rumbled overhead.

Her whole body was numb.

She had been standing here for a very long time now. She had came before the sun had risen, had stayed and watched the gloriously depressing sun rise, had watched as the brilliant ball of flame hid behind the gigantic clouds that cackled with electricity. Her eyes had followed the first drop of rain fall from the sky, had watched as it dripped down onto the stone before her, blurring the carefully carved words on its smooth surface, tainting it, obscuring it-mocking her.

Lightning flashed ahead, temporarily lighting up the place she was in. The stones that surrounded her cast eerie shadows across her face. They towered up and crowded her in, cornering her with their cold bodies, beckoning to her.

"Join us…" the stones seemed to chant with the rhythm of the rain beating down. "Join us…"

"N-No!" She screamed, covering her ears with shaking hands. "No!"

She sobbed louder. Afraid. Frightened.

Not at them- not at the stones that marked the places of the dead, but at herself. She was deathly afraid, afraid of her own future, of her own past, afraid what the two dead people lying not two feet away from her would feel if they found out…

She was afraid of herself, for what she had done, for her actions that were so heartless, so cruel, so-so downright _vindictive_.

She shivered. "I'm sorry!" She finally burst out, just as the downpour of rain suddenly stopped. "I'm sorry!" Her voice cracked from the hours of disuse, sounded so horribly hollow and meaningless with her own ears.

The stones seemed to shrink a bit as she shouted out her apologies again and again. Remorse and guilt bit her harshly as she did so, and she was so overcame with emotion that her throat clogged up, and she was unable to say anything more, except wail in despair.

Just as suddenly as it came, the clouds disappeared. The sun revealed its warm body, bathing her and the stones in a brilliant comforting glow. Her clothes were still drenched and her umbrella sat on the ground beside her water logged shoes, forgotten. The woman gave one final weep before sliding down against the stone, resting her back and head against its hard surface.

There was a brief period of silence before she spoke again.

"I never hated you," she said softly, watching as a few sparrows came out of hiding to peck at the grass. "I never did. I loved you- loved you because you loved me. I was mean, jealous and cruel, but you never failed to love me. You thought I despised you, but you never asked why. Perhaps you knew why I acted as I did-" she gave a shaky laugh, wiping the lone tear that dusted her nose, "-you always were the smart one, weren't you, sis?

Remember the times where we would huddle up in bed, afraid of the storm and mum or dad will come to our rescue by reading a book aloud to us? Remember how we used to fight because you wanted to them to read something about animals, and I wanted them to read something about magic? Remember how I would dress up, always, as a witch for Halloween while you dressed up as a dog or a horse or some other animal? Remember the times when I pretended that the broom I was holding was a magical broom that would carry me into the sky whenever we were doing chores? I was always fascinated by magic, you knew that. So when-" She broke off as tears threatened to spill again.

Gulping in deep breaths, she powered on, determined to continue. "So when the boy came along and told us that you were a witch- I just- I just broke, sis! You were always the perfect sister- the one with the straight As, the pretty one, the _popular _one- I was just that sister who _tried_ to be perfect. The one who'd follow you and watch with envious eyes as you bring home letter after letter of compliments from school, the one that wanted you to stop swinging higher and higher on the swings, for fear that you'd never come back down and join me down here. But you continued to fly higher, and stayed there, until I was nothing but a dot stuck on the ground.

And then that dreaded letter came-the letter that carried your future instead of mine. I couldn't believe it- Magic came not to the one who yearned it most, but to the one who'd waved the mere notion away like some creation borne from a child's imagination. _It was not fair_. It was then, I think, that I started to ignore you, to pretend that you didn't exist, because you took my future and my dreams and my hopes. Took them all and claimed them as your own.

I had thought, after you boarded that train that led you to my dream, that that was that. No more comparing sister with sister, because how could they? One was learning Science and Maths while the other was learning Transfiguration and Potions. But they did, and did it with apparent ease and increasing enthusiasm. Every letter that came by owl was carefully preserved and locked away in a special wooden chest, while the letters that came from my own boarding school were used as fuel for the fire place. We came back for the holidays on the same day, and yet _you_ were the one who always got the warm welcome on your platform, while I had to walk home from the bus stop. You were the one that they helped unpack and marvelled at what you did at school, while I was left to take out the trash after you'd cleaned out your trunk, listening to them gush over your successes.

All that resentment, all that jealously, and all that longing just built up and, finally, one day it exploded. So when you asked me to go to your graduation, I refused. I did not want to go to Hogwarts- the school I had dreamed about. I did not want to go there and see my sister wearing_ my_ robes, waving _my _wand, and being presented with _my _certificate while talking to_ my_ professors and friends. I felt that you took everything away from me-my hopes, my fantasies, my parents- my entire _world_.

Magic had betrayed me, so I hated it. Never again, I swore, will I have anything to do with it. I changed myself- cut my hair, changed my wardrobe, cut myself from our family-from you, especially, left a note right after my own graduation and disappeared. I wanted to make my own way into the world- no longer would I dream about what I couldn't have, no longer would I dare to hope again. People who knew me before said that I was changing, and though they didn't say it, I knew that I was changing for the worse, not better. I became more conscious about the way things were positioned, because I knew that things like lining the plates in the dishwasher, that making the tables right angle to the rug was right- things like that won't change, won't betray you. I became uptight, they said, more reserved, less outgoing. I didn't care, though, I loved my new self, because I knew that magic will never again come back and haunt me.

Except it did. "

She glanced up just as the sparrow flew away. In the distance, she could just make out the silhouette of the car parked by the gate. She glanced at her watch, whose surface was still dotted with water. They were one hour late- she'd told them to come at two in the afternoon, but she was glad that they were. She knew that her husband had purposely stalled so that she would have enough time to say goodbye forever, to apologise and try to redeem herself, if that was possible.

The door slammed; her son had gotten out and was arguing with one of them. The man relented at last, and her son, triumphant, threw open the gates and marched towards her, a determined expression on his face.

She thought that she had about two minutes before he reached her, and so she quickly continued.

"The news of your death- you don't know how much that shocked me, sis. I barely had enough time to grieve privately before he came-your son. Once again, you had beaten me. You'd produced a child that had magical blood flowing through his veins, a child that would, just like you, mock my dreams and head off to that dreaded, wonderful school. I don't know what possessed me, but I guess all those years of seclusion and loneliness and frustration that I had tried to bottle up and bury slowly leaked out, bit by bit, until the entire contents was flowing through me. Finally I had a chance to get my revenge - you had stolen my dreams, my parents, my world away from me. Now I could take _his _away- the little baby boy that belonged to you."

Her son had stopped, standing not five feet from where she was sitting. He didn't seem to want to come closer. He had frozen at the sight of his mother in her drenched clothes, with her swollen eyes and tear streaked marks on her face.

And then he stepped forward, battling and triumphing over his own inner wars. He helped his mother up and turned to the stones that had haunted his mother's life.

"I'm Dudley Dursley," he introduced himself, "Your sister's son. So I guess I'm your nephew then."

She glanced up at him, startled. Never had she heard him speak so strongly and with so much certainness.

"Haven't heard about you much," he went on conversationally, as if he wasn't speaking to two dead people, but living versions of them. "But I won't lie to you- I was horrible to Harry. I bullied him, stole his food, beat him up. I'm not saying I'm not sorry, but that I can't take back the past. If I could travel back in time right now, maybe Harry and I would be the best of mates-" he chuckled, "Actually, that seems weird just saying it."

She continued to stare at him. Was this man truly her son? The same boy she'd fawned over, had sheltered him from her sister's son for fear the same thing that happened to her would happen to him?

Since when did he grow up?

"I'm not good with words, you know, so it's kinda surprising how well I can speak to you guys. I wish I could speak to Harry like how I could speak with you. I guess the fact was that I was jealous of him. He was the secretly popular boy, even though nobody was his friend, he always did these cool things no matter what happened to him- I'll never forget the day when we were chasing him and he jumped, like, ten feet into the air to sit by the chimney. We never really talked, Harry and me, and well, any sort of communication between us was really just me trying to understand what he was saying.

And then, last night, when I was thinking about our separation, I realised that despite the fact that I hated him, I would actually miss him. Its sounds so corny, I know. But he was that permanent fixture in our house- he'd always be there when I came home. And although I would prefer that he didn't have that wand and broom and owl with him, I think I'd preferred it very much if he came with us. He's family, no matter what happened. He's been with us since he was a year old- it just seems weird now that he's gone. I know he's probably rejoicing that we- the people who'd bullied him his entire life- were finally going to leave him alone. And just that thought saddens me, you know? Goodbyes are meant to be heartfelt and sad, but cheerful at the same time. Ours was, well, awkward, and relieved, I think, on his part.

As soon as we've settled down, I'm planning to contact him. I'm gonna write letters and try and find that connection that cousins should have. Because it's stupid, isn't it? Relatives not speaking to one another. It was because of my mum's blood- because she's related to him- that kept him safe, all these years. And though I don't know wizard magic, I know that muggles have their own kind of magic too. Magic that's stronger than wand waving and chanting spells."

Petunia was crying now. Sobbing into her son's jacket. Hanging on as if he was her life line. In a sense though, she realised between tears, he was. She couldn't believe how foolish she'd been- she had been trying to prevent what had happened to her- all that sadness, resentment, anger, but she'd been the one to instigate those feelings into her own son.

She was glad that, unlike her and her sister, Dudley would be able to have a second chance. That he had realised that he was at fault and was willing to mend the shaky relationship that had never really been strong, but should've been.

She was glad that history was not repeating itself.

"C'mon, mum," Dudely firmly held her by the arm to support her. And together, son and mother, made their way back to the car, where it would take them to another country, and into another life.

The two stones watched as the car drove away. The occupants in the car did not see how a ray of sunshine hit the stone and reveal the writings from underneath the dirt and grime.

"_Lily Evans-Potter, mother, wife, sister and aunt. She would love and be loved by all_."

* * *

><p><strong> Hope you enjoyed reading this story! Please review :)<strong>


End file.
